“Could you go any slower?” I say to myself as I’m driving down Highway 83. The speed limit is 45, but the driver ahead of me wants to go 40. I clench my hands tightly around my steering wheel. I trail not too far behind them, waiting, hoping, praying that they speed up just a little bit faster.

The digital clock on my radio reads 7:20 a.m. I have precisely ten more minutes to get to school on time. In what would typically be a 5-minute drive, my venture to school has now turned into an endless crawl.  

I think to myself: Why? Why? Why? I try to come up with any rational reason as to why the universe would do this to me today. I have a test first period that I absolutely can not be late for. My mind wanders, thinking of countless reasons as to why today would be the day I get stuck behind the slowest driver in the world’s history of slow drivers. I ask all of my questions but receive no answers. 

My blood begins to boil like a tea kettle on a hot stove, waiting to go off and release its steam. 7:23 a.m. I peek around the left side of the driver ahead of me to see if I could possibly pass this egregious driver. With all of the oncoming traffic ahead, I am left hopeless. There is no escape. 

As I am getting closer to school, bright yellow and orange lights flash in the distance. The car ahead of me slows down to pass the accident that is ahead. A small Toyota had drifted into the right ditch. I look to my right and see the driver is being assisted by a tow truck, trying to get pulled out of the snowbank. 

I unclench my hands from the steering wheel, relaxing them to a natural position. Time becomes irrelevant. The driver ahead of me continues on forward in the direction of my school. I trail further behind them, dropping down to their speed. I follow behind slowly, thankful for the slow driver ahead of me, who may have saved me from ending up in a snowbank, too.